


Two Words

by camerasparring



Series: Sex House [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bottom Richie Tozier, Can be a stand alone, Come Marking, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, I'm not typing the name of the thing they do, IT Chapter Two Fix-It, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pool Sex, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Sex God Eddie Kaspbrak, Smut, They Are Very In Love and Married, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, pretty much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camerasparring/pseuds/camerasparring
Summary: “I’m going to put this on you because I know you’re too stubborn and sue me for wanting to touch you all over, you look good, you asshole,” Eddie says, a rambling stream of consciousness, and Richie basks in Eddie’s compliments-folded-into-insults just like he does the sunlight.“So you’re saying my evil plan was a success?” Richie says, winking. Eddie rolls his eyes and squirts out another round of sunscreen to rub into Richie’s skin.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Sex House [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552978
Comments: 30
Kudos: 519





	Two Words

**Author's Note:**

> This is in the same universe as Home, Sweet Home, but can definitely be read as a stand-alone one shot of complete and utter porn. It references the first story, so hey, why not read it, am I right? ;) 
> 
> Once again, Heather inspired it all, and I turned it into Eddie completely ruining Richie because he is a Sex God that bought a sex mirror and I'm letting him live his best life.

The patio door slams and Richie wakes with a start. Eddie towers over him, and Richie has a half-thought that amounts to, “that’s never happened before” before he realizes he should be scared. 

“Are you _asleep_ out here?” Eddie shrieks. Richie blinks a few times, hard, his eyes cloudy. He’s been outside awhile. His neck already feels stiff from falling asleep pressed into a deck chair, even if it is one of the cushioned ones he had goaded Eddie into buying for this very purpose. 

“What would make you think that?” He looks around while Eddie fumes, trying to find a plausible excuse when he realizes the only thing in the small outdoor cabinet next to him is a bottle of lube. He rubs at his sore neck and shrugs.“I was… jerking off?” 

Eddie’s glare should be scary, it really should, but his dick may have taken that as a suggestion rather than a lofty lie, and he feels something stir while he watches Eddie contemplate how he can both kill Richie and protect him from the sun. Tucked tightly into a soft pair of khaki capris and a green button-up, Eddie looks positively delectable. And it isn’t just the dream Richie woke from, where he was rimming Eddie in this very chair, it’s how the sun turns his skin into a golden, shiny color and the heat curls his hair at his temple, and how any bit of anger gives him a sweaty sheen that Richie just wants to lick off, nape to tailbone and all the way back up. 

“We’ve _talked_ about this, Richie, what the fuck!” Eddie’s hands rest on his hips, his foot tapping lightly against the concrete. Richie groans and flips onto his stomach. 

“I have a shirt on! And shorts!” 

“Yeah, and a fucking neck and a stupid _face_ that still need sunscreen,” Eddie says, halfway inside and grabbing at his handy bottle of SPF 40 he keeps in the laundry room for guests. Or his idiot husband, apparently. Richie adjusts his glasses so he can nuzzle into the cushion. The sun shines gratuitously on his back, and Richie likes the burn. He probably would turn himself beet red if Eddie wasn’t around, wrinkle himself to death because the heat of the sun just holds him so warmly. Knuckles swinging onto the ground and sleep still in his eyes, Richie hums and lets his eyes slip closed. 

The hem of his shirt lifts and Eddie’s hand presses inside. Cracking an eye, he sees Eddie kneeling next to him. He’s still mad, but his mouth is doing that wiggly thing that means he loves Richie but also think he’s possibly the biggest dumbass on the planet. And that’s the gap wherein Richie thrives. 

“I’m going to put this on you because I know you’re too stubborn and sue me for wanting to touch you all over, you look good, you asshole,” Eddie says, a rambling stream of consciousness, and Richie basks in Eddie’s compliments-folded-into-insults just like he does the sunlight. 

“So you’re saying my evil plan was a success?” Richie says, winking. Eddie rolls his eyes and squirts out another round of sunscreen to rub into Richie’s skin.

“Your plan was to burn yourself to death?” He slides his palms across the small of Richie’s back.

“I put myself in danger to get your hands on me, baby.” Richie whines when Eddie’s fingers pinch at his side. 

“Joke’s on you, cause I’d do it anyway,” Eddie says with a bite, but his hands are soft on Richie’s skin. Richie sighs, Eddie’s fingers wrapping around his right hip, slathering lotion in a place he’s not sure he’s ever been burned. Eddie always revels in touching him. It’s frankly overwhelming, and not always in the best way, but Richie tries to take it in stride. He’s not used to being so thoroughly worshipped, watched with reverence, taken care of with such care he thinks it might kill him if it weren’t also saving him. 

Eddie lifts at his shirt, giving Richie’s brain a second to catch up before pulling it over his head. He stands in the process, moving to Richie’s feet and stripping off his own shirt. Richie sees that look in his eyes, that determination, and his whole body shivers. He turns on his other side just in time to see Eddie kneeling onto the other deck chair next to him. 

“Not kidding, Rich, you need to put this shit on,” Eddie says, inching closer, directing the bottle onto Richie’s back this time. Richie squirms under the cold wetness, but it’s quickly soothed with Eddie’s warm hands running across him. He leans into the touch. Richie feels that pull in his abdomen when fingers dance up his sides. He’s not sure if Eddie has any naughty intentions, but either way, he’s pretty sure he’s going to rub off against these fucking cushions.

“Your incentive system is fucked, Eds,” Richie groans as Eddie smooths more lotion over the length of his arms. “I’m never gonna learn without some tough love,” he says, because he’s an idiot, and Eddie knows it, so he just snorts, leaning down to press his cheek against Richie’s shoulder blade. Richie watches him. His touches get slower, lazier, their eyes on each other, their bodies tingling in the heat of the sun. 

They listen to the quiet of the city, “hectic harmony,” as Eddie calls it, but mostly it’s the rippling of the pool and Richie’s breathing. He dips in an out of consciousness, Eddie’s hand rubbing circles into the middle of his back. Sometimes Eddie traces shapes, and sometimes Richie watches him, sees the tight coil of stress bleed from him as they relax into their chairs. Richie’s in the throes of love and napping, but his mind conjures up the image of the bottle of lube hidden away next to him and he almost moans with it. 

“I think I might need a reapply, Spaghetti,” he says, hips wiggling in place. Eddie giggles, and Richie grins, his heart swelling. Eddie sits up again, swatting at Richie’s back, the bottle of lotion dormant at his side. 

“It’s been ten minutes, moron.” 

“But I feel it _burning_ , that evil sun.” 

Eddie looks the furthest thing from impressed. “Is that right?” 

“Mhm,” Richie nods, circling his hips against the chair. “Protect me with your body, baby,” he says, and Eddie slaps him on the thigh, but still throws a leg over him. He hoists himself so he’s sitting just on the edge of Richie’s ass, his knees bracketing each of Richie’s thighs. Richie feels a little trapped, but it’s good. His skin prickles, sweat beading at his temples. 

Eddie rubs one long, smooth line up his back, pressing his hips fully into Richie’s ass. Richie chokes on a groan. 

“Your hands are dry,” he says, not minding a fucking bit. 

“I’m not wasting any more of my guest lotion on you,” Eddie says, and fuck, Richie loves him. He’s ridiculous. He’s massaging the hell out of Richie, knows he’s had a stressful week after traveling away from home, teasing him and taking care of him, just like he always does. Richie could cry with how much of himself he could give to Eddie and how it would never be quite enough. 

Richie moans when Eddie sweeps a palm over the nape of his neck, and Eddie leans forward to follow it with a kiss, a bit of a reach, but it makes Richie blush like a schoolgirl. 

“Have I mentioned that I love you?” Richie says, barely even conscious of it, it just flows from him, but he’d never have cause to regret saying it out loud. Not anymore. 

“Are you angling for more pool sex, Tozier?” Eddie asks, as if he isn’t straddling Richie’s thighs. 

“Fuck _yeah_ ,” Richie drools. He’s starting to get overwhelmed, the bulk of Eddie on top of him, the pressure of his moving hands holding him in place. “The last time was _good_.” 

“Good?” Eddie laughs, but it sounds shaky. “You literally punned with my dick in your mouth.” He gives a small punch to the point of Richie’s shoulder blade, and Richie hisses, pushing up on his arm. His hips press up too, and both of them gasp at the feeling of Eddie, hard, sliding against him. Even through two layers of clothing, Richie moans at the heat of him. 

“Eds, you’re fucking _hard_ ,” Richie says, pushing up again, and Eddie slaps at his side. 

“Shut up, you feel good.” His thumbs grab at Richie’s hips, rubbing a little, mostly reeling him in closer. “You look good.”

Richie laughs, giddy with it. “Oh, and I’m the one angling for it?” 

Eddie pushes forward, teasing Richie, and it works. He feels desperate for it. He wants the clothes out of the way so he can really feel Eddie move against him. 

Leaning up on his arms, Richie starts to tug at the waist of his shorts, and it only takes Eddie a second to get the idea, helping him until they’re rolled down, framing the bottom of his ass, tight around his thighs. Eddie palms heavily at both of his cheeks then stands up to take off his shorts. Richie sends a prayer up to heaven for their high-rise fences. Eddie would never get fully naked if there was any risk of someone seeing him. But Richie also likes to think maybe he would, so drunk on the feel of their skin together. 

Richie turns to watch Eddie, catching a glimpse of his hand gripping at the base of his erection, already red and leaking. Richie swallows, pushing up on his glasses, blinking to make sure he’s not dreaming. Eddie’s always been so fucking hot, so small with black dustings of hair parsed out and soft over his pale skin. Richie likes to touch him these days just because he can. Just because they’re married and Eddie tells Richie he likes it, every chance they’re alone together. And even a couple special times when some other people were around. 

Eddie climbs back on, the bob of his hard dick tantalizing already, and then he fits it into the ridge of Richie’s ass, right in between his cheeks, and Richie almost blacks out. Eddie groans. 

“God, _Richie_ ,” he says, already sounding broken, and it sends a shock up Richie’s spine. Richie grinds down into the cushion, moaning at the friction, and Eddie’s hand pushes into the center of his back, over his spine. It punches the air from him and Richie loves it. Loves being at Eddie’s mercy, being used for Eddie’s pleasure. He leans up to tilt his hips into it, and then they move together seamlessly.

Eddie takes his time. He uses his hands, pushes Richie’s cheeks together around his cock. It’s leisurely and lazy, and Eddie control the pace, lets it simmer and cook them both. He thrusts up then stops, reaching over to the table to get the lube. He pours it shamelessly, getting them both wet, and it makes the slide easy and so fucking _good_. Richie can barely move with it, completely pinned, and his chest heaves. Eddie keeps him there, doesn’t speed up. He watches himself and tells Richie what it looks like, how good it feels, and Richie worries he might die. 

“This feels stupid good, Rich, you feel so fucking good,” he says, rubbing right against Richie’s hole, and Richie jerks in his grip, his dick trapped against the cushions.

“The _fuck_ , Eds, I’m gonna die,” Richie groans. He frees his hands and uses them to grip at his hair, at his wit’s end. The feel of Eddie against him is making him lose his mind and he can’t do anything about it. He’s light-headed and pressing back when he can, the shape of Eddie moving against the most sensitive part of him. 

“I’m gonna come on you,” Eddie breathes, grinding shamelessly, and Richie gasps. “On top of you, just like this.” 

“Oh _god_.” Richie wants him to so badly, wants to tell him that, but can’t really make it happen, and then Eddie finally starts to speed up and everything spins out of his head in a flash. He’s groaning and fucking between Richie’s cheeks with ease, the sounds of the lube against skin ringing in Richie’s ears. 

“Rich, Richie, _fuck_ , yes, stay right there,” Eddie says, his thrusts getting erratic, pressing over Richie’s hole with every move. Richie can’t really do much else, held in place by Eddie’s hands on his hips, pressed down too tight to the chair to get any relief for himself. It’s maddening but amazing. Eddie’s humping desperately against him, breathing out little gasps, and then Richie feels him come, wetness at the small of his back and all over his ass, and Richie could cry with how fucked turned on he is. Eddie barely ever comes on him, and maybe it’s the heat that’s gotten to his head, but he sweeps a finger through the remnants on Richie’s skin and leads a trail down to Richie’s hole. 

Richie yelps. 

“Eddie, oh my god,” he groans, gripping at the arm of the chair, pivoting his body to look back at Eddie. He’s a mess. His hair is wild, his skin is patchy red, from the sun or exertion or both, and it only now occurs to Richie that he’s probably burning. Then Eddie gathers more of his own come, using it to a push a finger slowly into Richie. Richie’s mouth waters. Every time he thinks Eddie can’t get hotter, he somehow manages it. And it’s all for him. 

Eddie’s fingers are gone just as quickly as they arrived, until he taps at Richie’s thigh, urging him to turn over onto his back. Richie does as he’s told, inching down a bit so he can comfortably raise up his legs, hoping Eddie settles on finger-fucking him for good. All that action in the area really got him keyed up. Eddie peels Richie’s shorts the rest of the way off his legs and sets them on the ground. Then Eddie’s fingers are back with a vengeance, this time followed by his mouth closing down around Richie’s formerly neglected erection. 

“Oh _god_ ,” Richie says again, all that he’s really capable of, and Eddie pulls off to laugh up at him. 

“I think this is the least you’ve ever talked while we’ve had sex.” Eddie licks at him gently, kneeling between his legs, adding a second finger inside of him and looking fucked out with wet lips. The air punches out of Richie’s lungs. He can’t believe this is his life, spread out on a pool chair with a hot guy working him over like his life depends on it. And Eddie wonders why he can’t get the words out. 

Thankfully, Eddie takes a high-keened groan from deep in Richie’s lungs as an answer, and descends down on him again, which this time gets him a high-pitched whine and a flail of Richie’s legs. 

Eddie doesn’t have a free hand, pumps and scissors two fingers inside of Richie, holds his thigh up with the other, but his mouth needs no extra assistance, and Richie feels attacked from all angles. He knows his come-splattered back is ruining the cushion under him, and the fact that Eddie’s letting it happen destroys another couple dozen of his brain cells. Eddie’s mouth alternates between fast and slow, the pressure perfect, and his fingers find Richie’s prostate just as he pulls off to take a breath. 

“ _Fuck_ , Eddie, yes,” Richie moans, reaching out to grab Eddie’s shoulder. The sun is in his eyes, so he misses, but feels Eddie move forward to catch his thumb in his mouth. His tongue sweeps over the pad of it, and all the blood left in Richie’s brain shoots right to his dick. There’s a small kiss pressed there next, and Richie squints forward, needing to see Eddie, and his smug smile is earth-shattering. 

Eddie’s barely fitting the head of Richie’s dick back in his mouth, fucking quick against that spot inside him when Richie’s voice breaks on a loud groan, his body tensing. Eddie moans in return, freeing his mouth again, and drops his thigh so he can stroke Richie through it. He lets Richie come on his chest, pressing hard inside of him, his grip tight and relentless. Richie jerks and groans, disbelieving, being completely wrecked second by second. His whole body aches with pleasure.

Richie has never liked to be seen, at least not fully. His mouth runs with stupid shit to avoid a stream of what really wants to come out, protecting his own heart from being heard. He knows Eddie sees him now, has for a long while, and sometimes it still terrifies him but mostly it makes everything much more real. It’s taken a long time to push through his walls, to let Eddie take care of him, see him serious and messy and real. To experience him completely wordless, tears in his eyes, so broken apart and vulnerable, but also so safe and happy. 

Richie gulps down air as Eddie mouths at the inside of his thighs, carefully removing his fingers. Richie’s whole body shivers in their absence until Eddie runs a soothing hand up the center of his chest. He produces wet wipes from somewhere, and Richie’s far too fucked out to question it. He cleans them both up, meticulous and thorough, as if he hasn’t just ruined Richie on a deck chair like a feral animal. When he’s done, he stretches out on his own chair, on his side to face Richie. 

“That was payback for the pun,” he says, kissed into Richie’s shoulder, whose body has somehow been rotated back in the chair, no memory of how that happened. Richie thinks, not for the first time, that he’s managed to marry a true Sex God. A menace to society who ravages his body in the dirtiest ways possible and then cleans him back up as if it never happened. Richie sighs, his eyes and limbs heavy. 

“No, no, Spaghetti, that was something else entirely.” He tips his head to the side, and Eddie lifts his to kiss him. Richie feels a gentle buzz between them as their lips press together softly, and he sighs again. Eddie’s gotten way better at post-blowjob kissing. He still pulls a grossed-out face every now and then, but then he does things like fingering his own come into Richie’s ass, or eating Richie out without asking him if he’s showered, so it feels like a pretty good compromise. 

“Oh yeah?” Eddie says, his cheeks pink from kissing, and Richie’s almost forgotten they were talking. 

“Yeah. Two words.” 

Eddie just raises an eyebrow, and Richie smiles, blissed-out and pressed tight against his man. It’s almost worth the slap he’s about to get. 

“Pool sex.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading my shameless porn, I appreciate it more than you can know. You can find me on tumblr at[tinyangryeddie](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tinyangryeddie).


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